La Posada --Chapter 8 --PG-13

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librarian_7
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La Posada --Chapter 8 --PG-13

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Disclaimer: I don't own Josef. He thinks he owns freshie Lucky, but I do.

La Posada

Chapter 8

Lucky stretched under the blankets and curled up again as her feet hit a cold spot, eyes half-closed against the morning light. In that delicious state between asleep and fully awake, she could replay the events of the night before. Parts of it were perhaps unpleasant, but the important thing was that Josef had come. When she needed him, he’d come to her. She tried not to make more of it than it was, she tried to remind herself of what she was to him, one of many, and replaceable. Still, last night he’d been here, lying beside her in this bed, his cool mouth on hers….she wriggled with remembered pleasure, reaching for the pillow where his head had rested, trying to find some lingering scent.

And she sighed, thinking that his visit had been secret, and she needed to behave as though it had not occurred. Although how she was to frown and act bereft, with the memory of his lips on hers, she had no idea. She considered staying in bed for the day, or at least the morning, cuddling his pillow against her body, trying to hold onto the dream of him a little longer.

Wearily, Lucky realized that wouldn’t work. Besides, if he wanted her to be watching her surroundings, lying in bed was not the way to go about it. Josef had seemingly endless energy. She needed to emulate that.

Breakfast was quiet. Most meals had been, since Carmencita’s suicide attempt, with many sequestering themselves. Even freshies who swore they were only in it for the money, or the bite, had to stop and think. Personally, Lucky had never been more in sympathy with Carmencita than she was now. The bare idea of a world with out Josef’s ageless, sardonic presence—her mind shied away from the concept, and she wondered briefly if the vampire would laugh at her for that, or agree.

This morning, however, she felt ravenous, and had to remind herself sternly to stick to her usual breakfast order of coffee, fruit, and yogurt. She knew the staff would be alert to breaks in pattern, especially now. So she sipped her coffee, and tried to look as though she were reading her book, not watching the room. She was successful enough that she was actually slightly surprised to find Sam sliding into the chair directly across the table. He looked pale, haggard.

“Are you okay? You look terrible.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He signaled for coffee, and didn’t say another word until after a few stabilizing sips. Then he looked around, casually, to make sure no one was near. “No, I’m not all right. I had a visitor.”

Lucky’s eyes widened. She could hear Josef’s voice in her head mentioning “other stops.” “Oh,” she said faintly. “Oh, dear.”

Sam’s face looked harder than she’d ever seen it. “Did you really need to sic him on me, Lucky? Was that really necessary?”

“Sam, I’m sorry. I had no idea. Honestly.”

“Right. Sure.”

Lucky flushed. “It isn’t like I could’ve even told him your room number. If I’d known—what did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything.” Sam looked past her, eyes haunted. “I woke up, and he was sitting, staring at me. Damn, those old ones are scary.”

“He’s never been anything but good to me.”

“Whatever.” Sam glanced at her, then looked away again, fidgeting. “He just—just talked. About how the blood of his exclusives, and how precious it was to him. He told me about how when he was young, the vampires had blood slaves, and how the system now is better, because the blood was willing. How the bonds become almost unbreakable. He said if I was an exclusive, I should know all that. And that there were few limits on what he’d do for a willing heart.”

Lucky was troubled by this, troubled by her response to it, by the leap her heart made. Still, she was worried about her friend. “Did he threaten you, Sam?”

“He didn’t need to. That guy can scare the crap out of you without moving a finger.” Sam paused. “Lucky, did he—did he punish you? For me, I mean? If he did, I—I’m sorry.”

Knowing what she did of the way Sam’s vampire viewed punishment for minor transgressions, the best she could manage was a crooked smile. “He’s not like that to us. We talked about some things—look, I don’t want to trivialize what happened between us, Sam, because you know and I know it was a big deal. It’s just—what Josef said about unbreakable bonds—he wasn’t only talking about himself. When he tell me he owns me, it’s not just body and blood he means. It’s heart and mind as well, and he didn’t take that from me, I gave it to him. If that’s not what you have with your vamp, then I’m really sorry, but you just can’t understand.”

The other freshie was silent for a long time. He poured himself another cup of coffee from the carafe on the table, and sipped at it thoughtfully. Finally, looking away from her, he said softly, “Lucky, they don’t—they can’t—love us.”

Lucky blinked at the sudden prick of tears in her eyes. “This is stupid. And pointless.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re such a guy, Sam. Do you think you’re going to argue me out of what I feel?” She paused. “Isn’t there something else we can talk about? Has anyone heard anything about Carmencita?”

Sam frowned, shifting gears, but acquiesced to her request. “She’s kind of off the radar. I mean, well, it depends. If she lives they say she’ll be spoils of war for the one who killed her vamp.”
Lucky set down the orange she was peeling. “That can’t be right. Surely under those circumstances she wouldn’t be willing.”

Sam shrugged. “You really are from a different culture, aren’t you? Think about it. She was raised with the expectation that she’d be a freshie, then breed another generation to follow after her. It’s all she knows.”

“But if she was attached enough to try and kill herself over him—how could she go to another vamp?” Lucky asked. She just couldn’t understand it.

Sam’s voice took on an edge of bitterness. “How could she not? Otherwise, she’s out in the street. Standing in the line outside whatever freshie club she can find, desperate for it.” He looked bleak. “And it’s downhill from there.”

“If that’s so—well, it seems like she’d come back here to recuperate, then. I mean, if the new vamp wants her for, well, for his own.”

“Who knows? It’s all up to a vampire who just won a turf war against a very old, very powerful opponent. So I’m thinking, pretty damn ruthless. How he—or she, for all I know—treats freshies, I don’t know.”

They were still staring at each other across the table when Marla chirped brightly over Lucky’s shoulder. “Well, good morning. And how are you two doing today?”

Lucky jumped, startled, and turned to Marla, forcing a smile. “Oh, we’re just depressing each other with how much we miss our vamps.”

“I can imagine,” Marla replied, and Lucky thought she caught a hint of irony in her tone.

“Nothing you haven’t heard a million times,” Sam added.

“Very likely. Homesickness does seem to be endemic here.” Marla waved at a chair. “Mind if I join you?” She sat without awaiting a response.

“Actually, I’m glad to see you, Marla,” Lucky said. “Can you tell us how poor Carmencita is doing?” She paused delicately. “I know it’s not really any of my business, but the whole thing is so—so distressing.”

Marla patted her hand, an intrusion Lucky suffered only for the sake of possible information. “I was under the impression you were less than fond of her.”

Lucky shrugged. “Perhaps not, but I wouldn’t wish her troubles on anyone.”

“Ahh, I see. Well, as it happens, I really haven’t been told anything new. But they did get her to the hospital in time, and my guess is that she’ll recover.” Marla helped herself to coffee, adding cream and sugar with small, precise movements. “In any event, she won’t be returning here.”

“Cast aside?” Sam asked, “Or just a bad example?”

The temperature of Marla’s gaze dropped several degrees, although her voice remained steadily warm. “I can see why your vampire finds you so entertaining, Sam. As well as why she might have wanted a break from being so—entertained.”

He pretended to wince. “How you wound me” he said. “ I thought Lucky had the cutting remarks concession here.”

Marla ignored him. “As it happens, it is felt that—should Carmencita need to come a place like the Posada, another establishment—new surroundings—would cause her less pain.”

“Unless, of course, someone just wanted to make a point.”

Marla’s lips thinned. “Indeed.” She paused. “We’re certainly feeling our oats this morning, aren’t we? You must’ve had a good night.”

Lucky blinked. “Yes, I did,” she said. “I can only hope yours was as pleasant.” She smiled, and Marla smiled back, and Sam wondered if hiding under the table would draw undue attention.
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darkstarrising
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Re: La Posada --Chapter 8 --PG-13

Post by darkstarrising »

Sam has the measure of Josef:
That guy can scare the crap out of you without moving a finger.
a skill Josef has honed over the centuries.

The discussion of Carmencita's possible future was frightening - being turned over to the vamp who destroyed her own as a 'spoils of war' freshie or being turned out onto the street. With Sam's vamp being as sadistic as she is, it just goes to show how special the relationship is between Lucky and Josef.

Sam had better watch his step though - he's already pissed off Josef and now, it seems, he's pissed off Lucky and Marla as well. Maybe he should just stop talking. :snicker:
darkstarrising
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